


Along The Dark Path

by idrilhadhafang



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Death of Shara Bey, Deathfic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Graphic Violence, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Minor Kes Dameron/Shara Bey, Minor Poe Dameron/Ben Solo, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Psychological Horror, Stephen King Vibes, Young Ben Solo, Young Poe Dameron, manipulation of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23671693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang
Summary: Ben Solo was five years old when he realized he’d do anything for Poe Dameron.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Shara Bey & Kes Dameron & Poe Dameron & Ben Solo, Sheev Palpatine & Ben Solo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	Along The Dark Path

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Death Fic
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ben was five years old when he first went to a funeral. He’d been confused when Mommy and Daddy had gotten off the comm, eyes bloodshot from crying, before Mommy had said that Mrs. Bey was no longer with them. And Ben...from what he knew from what Mommy, Daddy and Uncle Luke told him about death (the D word, the final word), Ben knew that Shara Bey had all but become one with the Force.   
  
(At least he hoped. It wasn’t fair if Shara Bey couldn’t go into the Force. Then again, it wasn’t fair that Shara Bey couldn’t be here in general)  
  
There’d been an accident. A speeder accident. The body had gotten into bad condition; Mommy and Daddy didn’t even seem to want to talk about it, but the fact that the funeral was closed casket suggested it was bad. Why did _that_ have to happen to Mrs. Bey? Bad things couldn’t happen to good people. It wasn’t fair.   
  
Poe seemed to think the same way, when he turned to Ben during the funeral. “I wish she was alive,” he said.   
  
Ben nodded. “I do too.”  
  
“She was _my_ mama!” Poe said. “It wasn’t fair! Let whatever gods there are have their own mamas. My mama was mine...”  
  
Ben hugged him, almost impulsively, drawing the older child close even as Poe wept. Ben knew that according to his uncle, attachments were forbidden, and the shadow of greed — but it didn’t seem fair, did it, applying it here to a child who’d lost his mother? The thought was inconceivable, cruel. And Ben wanted to agree with Poe. _Poe’s mama is his. You can’t have him._  
  
“It’s not fair,” he murmured. “It’s not.”  
  
“It isn’t.” Poe sniffled, wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ben; I didn’t mean to scare you. It just hurts...”  
  
“I know.” Ben hugged him again. Then, “I made this for you. To remember her.”  
  
He pulled out the stuffed pilot doll that he’d made earlier. He’d persuaded Mommy to help, to make something so that Poe thought of his Mama whenever he looked at it. Poe sniffled, looking at the doll in amazement. “Is that...”  
  
“I made it for you. ‘Cause your mama was a pilot.”  
  
Poe smiled faintly. “Thank you.”  
  
“No problem!” Ben said. “You know, she could still be out there. In the Force. My uncle says that you become part of the Force when you die. So she could be there. Watching over you..."  
  
Poe sniffled. “I’d like that.”  
  
 _You could make it so._  
  
That voice, inside his mind. It changed voices, but it was the same presence, ever there, ever watchful. Here, it was deep, almost regal-sounding.   
  
_I knew a man who wanted to stop death. Two, actually. Two brilliant, revolutionary men who died tragically...but you could be the exception, little one. You always could._  
  
Ben could only hope so. Even as he watched Kes Dameron, trying to stay strong even though his wife (practically his soulmate, Ben thought) was being buried, Poe hugging the doll Ben had given him to his chest, friends of Shara’s leaving flowers there on the patch of dirt that was her grave...Ben wished that he wasn’t just five years old. Uncle Luke kept telling him about how powerful he was until he was sick of it. What good was power if he couldn’t save Poe’s mama, raise her from the dead?   
  
He wished he had more.   
  
He’d defy the laws of life and death themselves, defy nature, if it meant that Kes didn’t have to suffer anymore, and that Poe was happy.   
  
***  
  
It was at home, long after Ben had said goodbye to Poe (still wondering if he was enough), that he sat on his bed, listening to the Darkness in his head. He could hear it. Not outside, but inside. The vastness of the galaxy, and there were more, more people dying, more people who had lost their mommies or daddies or anyone...  
  
 _The Light can’t save you, youngling._  
  
Ben shivered. Surely the Light would spare a space for Shara Bey? The woman who had played the part of a Sith Empress with Ben and Poe, a year ago? The Light had to.   
  
_The Light restricts you. Puts chains on you. There is something greater. Something more powerful, that can shape the galaxy to your image._  
  
“Could you bring Mrs. Bey back?” Ben whispered, so his parents couldn’t hear him.   
  
_With the Force in your hands, child, you can shape it into whatever you want it to be._


End file.
